Excerpt from my blog Chasing Clean Air. All copy and photos copyright 2006-2007. 

This of one my favorite clean air destinations, and the most environmentally friendly hotel I’ve yet to stay in. What a pleasure! All hotels can learn from The Chrysalis Inn and Spa in Bellingham, Washington about how to keep a hotel clean and green, and healthy especially for people with allergies.

So much beauty! Romance! Seductive views!

Relaxing at The Crysalis Inn and Spa made my stay in Bellingham so special.

I want to tell you all about it.

There’s much to do in and about Bellingham–boating, whale watching, and scenic drives including Mt. Baker, the famous Chuckanut Pkwy, and it’s only sixty minutes to Vancouver, Canada.

How about taking off on a San Juan Island adventure? The marina is steps away from this hotel. So are several award-winning restaurants.

Truth be told, I loved hanging out in my relaxing, luxurious room and reading by the fire. 

The Inn offered everything I could possibly desire away from home. And more.

This day bed in guest rooms overlooks Bellingham Bay. The view is one of many treats offered at this Inn.

Hot stone massage, anyone? The spa is world-renowned and there’s frequently a waiting list for treatments. Book early.

I think I’ll have a drink from a local region, overlooking the San Juan Islands like these young women.

While I loved my relaxing stay alone, I can’t wait to return for a romantic get-away.

I’ve never been to a more romantic hotel to enjoy and explore. No wonder a lot of weddings take place here.

I met newlyweds upon my arrival. And the wedding party stayed here.

Voted one of the top twenty Inns in America by Travel and Leisure Magazine, it’s value continues to escalate.

Bellingham is one of the cleanest small cities in America, according to the American Lung Association.

If you’re in need of breathing clean air, I recommend this Inn. I give it a 10. 

 Of all the hotels I’ve ever stayed, this hotel is the most environmentally conscious.

To begin, I entered my suite, overlooking the San Juan Islands, and stepped onto hardwood floors. (Carpets can trap dust or worse off-gas toxics depending upon what it’s made of) The bathroom floor was made of stone. There’s a big sunken tub, with jets, I’m looking forward to using at the end of the day. Did I mention it too has a view of the water, boats, and islands?

On the down pillow of the king size bed–the most comfortable bed I’ve EVER slept in–there was a sign SAVE OUR PLANET suggesting hotels around the world use millions of gallons of water and tons of detergent. It said: Please leave this card on your pillow in the morning if you’d like your sheets changed, if not… And in the bathroom was a similar message regarding towels.

The waste paper basket called WASTE NOT BASKET has two sides: one, is marked RECYCLABLES, and the other side is marked, WASTE.

The room was luxurious in every way. My favorite part was the most luscious linens I’ve ever slept on, complimented with down pillows and comforter. I was very cozy, sleeping with the pitter patter of raindrops during the night. And, oops, forgot to mention, before bed, I turned on the gas fireplace to warm the room.

Doreen, head of marketing, told me about Sheila, head of housekeeping, who insists EVERYTHING be recycled. She goes the extra mile to make sure everyone complies, including management.

I can say a lot more about this 100% smoke free facility, and I will later…. Enjoy these photos for now.

Here I am this morning, posing in front of their beautiful wooden spiral staircase. It’s situated near their spa, which offers massage, facials, body treatments and more.

This is where I write today. The Chrysalis provides everything a writer needs, including high speed cable connection for computer/internet.

Because this Inn and Spa defines environmentally-friendly, they should win business environmental awards.

In my opinion, this Inn is the top of the TOPS.

This area is the most northern Washington city and defines culture, beauty, warmth (in the summer), waterfront views, and much more.

This is an excerpt from Chasing Clean Air, written in August 2006.

My lungs feel a lot better up here. I’m in Bellingham, and my lungs have felt better throughout Washington, except Seattle.

Air goes down smoothly.

No coughing.

And no worry about air quality like I regularly worried when in L.A. I still miss things about L.A. but I don’t miss the bad air or traffic that limited my mobility and put me and most everyone in a bad mood.

I’m laughing when I recall a recent yoga class in L.A.

Young female yoga instructor, “Breathe out smoggy air and all its toxins from your lungs.”

Class breathes out smoggy air.

Young female yoga instructor,

“Now breathe in.”

This is an excerpt from my blog Chasing Clean Air

Ahhh!

There’s a fork in the road, and it looks like this. Storm clouds in the distance. How close? When will they break above my head? Come crashing out of the sky….

I’m “supposed” to drive toward Mt. Baker today and stay at lovely Bed and Breakfast that was recommended. And when I went to the B & B’s web site earlier this morning, it said, I might see animals.

Bears.

I might.

Well, what if I do?

My suitcase is like lugging 50 cartons of gold. Why gold? Maybe I want some. I’ve got that many tee-shirts, sundresses, and a few sweaters to tide me over for the STORM. 

I can see it now: I’m lugging my overstuffed, evergreen suitcase (hey, it matches the trees!) when I see the bear. He looks at me and I look at him. And damn I try to run, lugging the damn suitcase with my favorite warm weather clothes… and…

I’m at this fork in the road, as I’m about to check out of the lovely Chrysalis Inn in Bellingham, and they’ve kindly extended my check-out until 1 p.m. They do everything kindly here. The receptionist thanked me for asking her for an extension of an hour for my stay.

So I walk along the pier behind the hotel to think about my possibilities.

Drive to Seattle, fly to L.A for a short break before my next Chasing Clean Air destination.

Drive to Seattle, fly to San Francisco (and see my mom, dad, uncle)

Drive to Seattle, fly to San Francisco, arrange for mom and I to do Northern California like Sonoma together.

Drive to Mt. Baker and see rain, sleet, bears OR beautiful trees and a pretty mountain.

As I walk the pier, I feel my thighs.

Like ice against my jeans. Remember it’s warm here.

And my fingers. Like icicles.

Warm.

Alternatively, I pass tourists in down jackets, and natives in shorts, jogging as if it’s 75 degrees out. Not even close. And then I see him. A smiling man in shorts, enjoying the view. He sits on a bench, overlooking Bellingham Bay, and we talk. He says I’m the friendliest person he’s met in three days. According to Danny O’Brien, people are very friendly in Oregon. He also loves Santa Fe, and Boulder. And beer. It’s 11 a.m. I learn he’s a hitch-hiker from Texas, and when he tells me he slept last night on the hill, I believe I’ve met my first “homeless” man in Bellingham. He smiles, “I’d love to go with you to Mt. Baker.”

Ha. Ha.

Got to run!

Speaking of running. I get diverted from my fork in the road, as I check out people– practically naked, running on the pier. And people think we’re crazy in California?

These are crazy people wearing shorts; I’m wondering where to buy long johns.

I really must sign off to take a quick shower and decide to drive toward Mt. Baker — take my chances — or drive toward Seattle — take my chances.

What do you think I’ll choose?

Here’s a parting shot of the marina area that I thought my nephews would most appreciate because there are big boats, small boats, and a train. In other words, boy heaven.

Road to Mt. Baker

So I’m running from the bear, as a storm cloud EXPLODES!

My heart races.

I push buttons on my cell phone.

No dial tone.

Running on gravel, windy road, no cars, no people.

Six miles.

I pass Douglas fir trees.

Bushes, blending into a relay course.

Over bridges and streams.

In the wild.

The bear approaches, an eagle swoops down, and…

I’m kidding to create the effect of fear to share how scared to death I was driving alone on windy roads with a mean BLACK cloud lowering in the sky.

It wants to eat me! It’s coming to get me! No one’s around. No one will know. Except the bear.

It begins to rain.

I drove east from Bellingham (inland) toward Mt. Baker, part of the Cascade Mountins, on Route 542 because Doreen and Bonnie,and every other person I met in Bellingham, told me Mt. Baker was a “can’t be missed” drive. So it might rain, no big deal.

So I’m driving alone in the rain, in an area I’ll learn is the wildest terrain in Washington State. The highway narrows from two-lanes to one, under an angry sky.

No big deal.

The menacing black cloud follows normally swimsuit, sun dress-clad, Southern California me, and it’s getting bigger and meaner and uglier, and it takes over the sky.

My nerves and imagination take off, as the cloud lowers in the sky more. My index finger can reach up and touch…

There are no cars on the road.

Just me. And my cell phone. Ah, yes, relief.

I call Fernando.

No dial tone.

I drive further; only 5 markers left (measuring a mile) until I’m at the Bed and Breakfast called The Inn at Mt. Baker. It’s romantic, I’m told. I don’t care if it’s a garbage dump. I can’t wait to get there. Time can’t speed up fast enough. My car can. I drive faster along windy roads.

No cars.

No people.

No big deal.

I call Fernando.

No dial tone.

I see the 29 marker for the B & B, and turn left onto a gravel road.

Rocks–sharp silver rocks line the narrow road.

Up a hill.

Shrubs on both sides.

My tires sound sick. Gravely. In need of care. I see a blown-out tire in my imagination (its happened five times before) only this time, I have no phone service. In red letters NO SERVICE. Unmistakable.

I’m not sure I’m even on the right road to the romantic–who gives a crap–B & B.

The mean black cloud lowers, overtakes the road. As I’m about to reach out to touch my nemesis, instead I reach for the phone. I hit speed dial.

Still…

No dial tone.

My heart races.

My hands shake as I back the car into branches juttting out from bushes in the tiny narrow road. I’m praying I don’t go the side of an invisible hill on the other side of the bushes. I pray a bear doesn’t pop his head out, (I just watched the documentary about the guy in Alaska who got eatten by a grizzly bear) or God-knows-what-else. Once again, my SUV’s positioned to turn right up the hill, or left, down.

I’m at a fork in the road, stuck between bravery and wimpdom.

Which road will I take?

I reflect: There are no people. There is no phone service. I could get a flat tire. There are bears.

And, I didn’t mean to share this with you reader, but it’s important: It was my time of the month. Yes, my period. Most certainly, a deadly scent.

I look over my shoulder.

A breeze rustles the bushes leaves.

Bears were one of the B & B brochure’s selling points. It read something like I might see wild animals, bears.

So I did what any sane Southern California gal would do.

No big deal.

I SUVed outta there, and two and a half hours after I left Bellingham, I arrived to Bellingham, and embarked on one of the most scenic roads in Washington State and, luckily,under blue skies. It was once part of the scenic Pacific Coast Highway, starting in San Diego and going up to Vancouver.

The Chuckanut Drive